Stir of Echoes
by Scarlet Ibis
Summary: Ever wonder how Buffy managed to get crazy basement! Spike to Xander’s apartment? Though not how she asked Xander or got him to agree—that’s another tale, maybe Maybe how Halloween was spent? No? Well, I answered those questions anyway :P A season 7


"Stir of Echoes"

It was a dreadfully quiet and boring night. Not a creature was stirring. It made sense, she supposed. There only seemed to be something brewing on Halloween every other year.

Dawn was at a party, followed by a sleepover. Willow was off doing some weird meditating thing. Xander was wallowing at home, and…wow. That was her short list of friends. What made that list even more pathetic was that one of her friends mentioned was her teenaged sister with her own life.

Yep. She _so_ needed to go out more.

She pushed the "info" button on the remote control, seeing that it was a little after three a.m. She pouted slightly before turning off the television and getting up.

"No. So what if it's Halloween? There has to be something brewing somewhere…damn it. Okay, maybe not, but still. A walk would be nice."

Grabbing a stake out of habit, she put on her jacket and headed out of the door.

*~*~*~*~

"There, there, now pet. No need to shed a tear," Dru, but not Dru, said soothingly to him, crouched in front of him. He sat with his back to the wall, fists at his temples, trying to make the voices stop, let alone the tears.

Drusilla stood up slowly, walking away from him. Spike looked up upon hearing a scoff from a manly voice.

"Figures, doesn't it?" Angelus said rhetorically. "Sweet, little Willy, weeping in a corner as usual," he commented lightly. Then his expression turned dark, making Spike shrink away. "Weak. Worthless. William." Angelus grinned, stepping closer. "No worries though—got _big _plans for you."

William looked up sharply in horror, hearing Angelus' cackle.

Only not Angelus. Not Drusilla. Not Buffy. No one. Couldn't be.

"No," Spike whispered, closing his eyes. "NO!" he roared, getting up.

"I won't do…I'm not _that_ anymore, I'm not…You can't use me!" Spike shouted, pointing his finger at the apparition. Angelus tilted his head, smirking at him. He walked closer, dark eyes pinned on Spike. Spike frowned, thinking it weird not to hear the rustle of his black, leather pants. But he wasn't there, was he?

_No. Not Angelus. Not…_

"Oh? Can't I?"

Spike looked down, unsure. And then…

He looked up and to the left, over Angelus' shoulder.

"No," he said slightly, a small smile on his face. "Can't use what's dead and gone."

And with that, Spike walked through Angelus and to the door.

"Spike? Where are you going?"

Buffy this time. Spike kept walking.

"We aren't done here, Spike!" not Buffy yelled.

"Dead and gone," Spike muttered. "Can't use what's dead and gone…"

*~*~*~*~*

Buffy twirled her stake, exhaling a sigh as she sat on a tombstone in Restfield, facing the rubble that used to be Spike's crypt. She was still unclear as to what exactly had happened to it. A few weeks after what she referred to in her mind as "Willow's Uber Meltdown into Homicidal Insanity," she went back to visit it. To see if…to see if he'd come back. He hadn't, and all she had left was a pile of stones. She ran into Clem a few days later, and he was just as clueless as she was. Luckily, some of his clothes and weapons had been salvaged at least. The coat, well, that had been safe in her closet for the summer until he resurfaced. She packed up his few things in boxes and put them with him in his basement in case he ever needed it or something. And maybe another reason to check on him without looking suspicious to Xander and Dawn, but still.

She had missed him over the summer, ashamed as she was to admit it, even if it was only to herself.

She saw him almost everyday that she was at school, usually on her lunch hour, but today had been so hectic—Halloween pranks had abounded, and self image issues on the rise. Being the weekend and all, she knew she probably wouldn't get the chance to see him. Not that there was anything really stopping her, it was just…

Buffy frowned after a moment.

"Huh. Looks like I finally ran out of excuses," she said aloud to herself.

Buffy rotated her shoulders, sighed, and headed in the direction of Sunnydale High.

*~*~*~*~*

"Come back down, son. This isn't the way," his un mother pleaded.

"Get out of my head!" he bellowed, dragging his fingers through his curls. "Won't matter soon. It'll be quiet, and I'll be quiet." Spike spoke quietly, a small smile on his face as he stood on the ledge of the roof of the building, arms spread wide as his shirt billowed open in the breeze on the first day of November. Well, not quite day yet. But soon…

*~*~*~*~*

She twirled her stake as she walked down the street. She paused in her steps, considering going home. It was nearly dawn, after all.

"No, I'm gonna go check on him. Make sure he had a nice, safe while insane in the school basement Halloween. Yep," she said to herself as she continued in the direction of the school. The new building loomed in front of her.

_"Get out of my head!"_

Buffy's head jerked up towards the roof. She couldn't see anything from where she stood, but she knew without a doubt to whom that voice belonged.

"Spike," she muttered, before running towards the building.

*~*~*~*~*

Buffy ran up the stairs, almost desperate to get to him, worried as to what she might find—terrified, even.

_What the hell could he possibly be doing on the roof before dawn, yelling at the sky?_

She'd figured he'd be okay, as crazy as he was in the basement.

_I mean, a basement, even though it's at a school, has to be a step up from a crypt, right? Well, okay, in theory. Spike's crypt had warmth and style, strangely. The school basement is…well, a school basement. But new at least. No demons or anything to mess with him or something. _

_Okay, also on the Hellmouth and possibly making him insane. All right—something has to be done._

"And let's start by getting his crazy self down from the roof before he fries," she added aloud to herself as she opened the door that lead to the roof.

She paused, letting the heavy metal door slam shut behind her, feeling the night breeze rustle the hair of her ponytail. She turned sharply, her hair slapping her face as his disturbingly mirthful laugh rang through the night. She thought she might have felt a chill in the air.

"Spike?" she called to him, approaching him slowly. The rocks of the gravel crunched as she did so. "What are you doing?"

He tilted his head, craning his neck around to look at her. His eyes were squint in confusion.

"Buffy? Is it you?"

"Yeah. It's me. Happy Halloween!" she exclaimed with false cheer. "Sort of," she amended. "What're you doing up there?"

"Waiting, of course," he replied, turning back around, spreading his arms wide, allowing his open shirt to float in a wave behind him from the wind, like faux dark blue wings. He looked like a demented angel up there. A sad, fallen angel.

"I hear the bells. Clinking and clanging as they start to toll…" he sang to himself. "Suppose I should be quiet, even though they tell you not to. Went quite loudly the first time. Just a bit though. Screams turned to whispers…I wanted it, even though I didn't know what it was, really. I was loud in limbo, though. All the way through."

"Spike? I don't understand."

"Cheated life. Cheated death. Victim, sure, but not for very long. Still…Just don't know anymore. How do you iron it out when you did, but you didn't? One in the same, now. Nothing more to be done but wait."

"Wait? For what?" Buffy shook herself, realizing it was pretty useless trying to figure out his insane babble. "You have to come down now. The sun's gonna rise soon."

He wiggled his fingers in the breeze. A smile was on his face, though she couldn't see it.

"Of course it is Buffy love. It rises, and falls, and rises, and falls…William's last, though. And I'll just float on the wind, see? I'll get to fly for a bit, dancing on the wind."

"What?" she asked in a near whisper. That, she did understand. Buffy's mouth thinned into a grim line. She approached him slowly with slayer stealth until she was directly behind him. Then she quickly grabbed him by the waistband of his jeans, yanking him back onto the roof. He grunted as his back slammed onto the jagged, little rocks.

He scrambled away from her, eyes wide, back against the wall of the ledge.

"Why? Why'd you do that?" he asked.

"Spike, I have to get you inside _now_. The sun is coming."

"It's on my heels, I know. Don't you see I have to!" he shouted, getting up abruptly. Buffy flinched backward slightly at this sudden change.

"Don't you get it? Don't you see? I _have_ to _burn_. It's the only way to be sure."

"No, you don't, Spike. This is insane."

"Already burned on the inside," he mumbled. "Now it's time from without. Have to be free from—"

"From what? You risk _everything_ to get your soul and just…what, that's it? You decide to quit _now_?" she asked, voice thick with emotion.

"It's not _quitting_. I'll be free—"

"Death is _not_ freedom. Remember?" He looked down at that, brow furrowed as he fiddled with his fingers. Buffy walked up to him, placed her hand gently on his cheek.

"You don't understand," he whispered, looking over her shoulder at what, she wasn't sure. Probably only something his broken mind could see. "It's not the same. Everything's different. Wrong…"

"I do. I get it. And I should've…I was scared, okay? I didn't know how to help you. Or even how I felt about…what they'd think about me helping…But please, let me try."

Spike shook his head, stepping back from her.

"No. Can't," he said, turning his back on her, and he tried to climb the ledge again. Buffy was on him in an instant.

She hurled him this time across the rooftop toward the center. Spike recovered quickly, ending up in a crouching position, growling at her.

"I don't want to fight you. But I will if you make me."

Spike responded by leaping at her.

They tussled for long while, and though she could tell that Spike's heart wasn't fully into fighting her, he was definitely determined to best her so that he could wait for the sun.

She wasn't going to let that happen. She couldn't. Her heart accelerated as she felt tears well in her eyes as the sky began to lighten.

"Spike, please. Don't do this," she pleaded, delivering a spin kick to his head. He fell to the ground, and Buffy leapt upon him.

"This isn't the way," she said softly. "Let me get you inside." Spike turned his head from her, eyes closed, moaning in protest. A tear fell, landing on his cheek. Except it wasn't hers. Buffy looked up, seeing the dark clouds above her as a rain drop landed on her forehead. Thunder rattled in the distance as the rain began pouring down. She closed her eyes as the rain began to pelt down, soaking them. Relief rolled over her.

She got up and then helped Spike to his feet. He looked up and then looked back down at her.

"But I wanted to dance so badly."

"I know, Spike. I know. Hey, we did, kind of," she said, wrapping her arm around his waist as she walked him to the door. "We danced. Almost to the death without that little intervention from on high."

She sighed, looking up at him, gently slicking his hair back away from his eyes so he could see. He looked a bit like his old self. Just a bit. They'd have to work on that.

"You'll be okay. You'll see," she tried to assure him, full of certainty as she opened the door. Spike looked back towards the ledge, watching as his mother smiled at him, her apparition untouched from the rain.

He wasn't as sure as Buffy.


End file.
